


wrestled long with my youth

by rosepetalfall



Category: Nothing Much to Do
Genre: Character Study, Coming of Age, M/M, Non-Chronological
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-19
Updated: 2014-12-19
Packaged: 2018-03-02 03:55:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2798627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosepetalfall/pseuds/rosepetalfall
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You really ready for this?” Rosa asks, as they merge onto the highway.</p><p>“It’s gonna be good,” Balthazar tells her. </p><p>-</p><p>The life and times of Mr. S. Balthazar Jones, from ages twelve to eighteen. From Wellington to Auckland to Wellington again, with a few detours into Jones sibling adventures, adolescent angst, first love (probably), flat-sharing and some video blogs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	wrestled long with my youth

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bookspazz](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bookspazz/gifts).



> Big thanks to bookspazz for cheerleading this along on tumblr! Title borrowed from Mumford and Sons' "Hopeless Wanderer."

“You ready?”

He is twenty-four, in Melbourne, standing backstage before a show (he’s an opening act, but that’s good, that works). 

He is three, in Wellington, and the social worker has come to take him.

He is five, in the heat of Samoa, learning to swim.

He is eleven, in Christchurch, and the house is eerily empty, their things securely packed away.

He is eighteen, in Auckland, only weeks away from starting university and the rest of his life. 

-

“So,” Ben says, nodding at Balthazar. “University.”

“Yup,” Balthazar agrees and smiles at the camera. 

“We’ll be living together,” Ben informs the camera. 

Balthazar nods again.

“And it’s going to be totally awesome,” Ben says. 

-

Going to Wellington for university is really kind of a coming home, in a way. 

Balthazar was born in Wellington, lived there with his birth mum until the state put him in care and Mum and Dad found him. (Bella, his birth mum, doesn’t live in Wellington anymore, which is better, maybe - they love each other the best they can but seeing each other in person is hard, more often than not). Wellington’s where his parents first met and got married (Rosa, his sister, was an adorable disaster of a flower girl) and it’s where Balth’s story started. He doesn’t remember those years particularly well, not when he was so young. 

But he’s looking forward to writing over the sunshine-hazy memories of his early childhood with new ones (like the palimpsests Mrs. Callahan taught them about in English). 

It’s been a ridiculous roller coaster of a year and Balthazar is eager for the next step, whatever that is. 

Anyway, this time he’s not nervous. (That’s a lie, he’s incredibly nervous - jittery waking up, thinking about leaving, thinking about all the auditions in his future. Thinking about his future, period.) 

He’s known he wanted to do music for ages and the thing is, he’s good. Not just Messina High School good, but actually good (he’s almost sure). A lot of his friends were ambivalent for ages about whether they wanted to go straight through to university, but it’s never even been a question for Balth. 

Music is his life and it’s the next step, but he’s curious and he’s never been bad at school and the whole dual program will make his parents feel better. Balthazar genuinely likes Pablo Neruda’s odes and Chekov’s plays though, so it’s not particularly a pain.

And he loves coffee house gigs and proscenium theaters, loves full orchestras and acoustic guitar. The question was never what to do, for him, but when and where. 

On his fourteenth birthday, Balthazar made a promise to himself that he would cultivate a sense of daring. And this is daring, surely, picking his life, even if it changes from here on out, even if it doesn’t go the way he hopes, the way he plans. (But hey, Lorde made it, so maybe Balth is the Next Big Thing, the Kiwi Sufjan Stevens the world doesn’t yet know it wants. He’d like to write songs about melancholy post-industrial cities and scores for the ballet, too. He has career goals.)

He should be nervous and actually, he is. But he’s ready.

Because, as they always have since the moment they met each other, Rosa and Balth are going together. 

-

“Are we going to actually stay here this time?” Rosie asks their mum. “Cause we have to do this every time - making new friends, starting school again -”

“Sweetheart, this one’s a tenure track job. And your grandparents are here. I think we’re going to be here for good,” Dad says, tugging lightly on one of Rosa’s many braids. 

Rosa frowns and steps away. Mum says Rosa’s just getting towards the teen angst phase and it’s nothing to worry about but Balthazar doesn’t understand what that means, really. Rosie’s thirteen, now, a year older than Balthazar, but Balth thinks that really she’s always been this dramatic, as long as they’ve known each other. 

“We haven’t moved that many times, have we, Mummy?” Nellie asks, twirling around.

“Honestly, Nellie, what could you possibly remember? You weren’t even born the first time we went to Christchurch or Samoa,” Rosa says. 

Nellie pouts. 

“Shall we go look upstairs?” Mum proposes. (Mum’s very diplomatic.)

“What do you think?” Dad asks Balthazar as Nellie races by to look at the bedrooms. 

Balth looks around at the wide windows. He’s been to Auckland before, visiting Mum’s parents, but it’s different being in a house that’s going to be theirs. 

“Yeah,” he says, “I guess I like it.”

-

“You nervous or something, S.B.?” Rosa asks him, the morning before their first day of school. 

“Yeah,” Balthazar says, picking at the tablecloth. 

“Don’t be,” Rosa replies airly. “We’ve done this before. We’ll be new and mysterious.”

Balthazar raises his eyebrows. “You’re not mysterious. You can’t keep anything secret.”

Rosa rolls her eyes extravagantly. “I mean we’ll be new and cool and people will want to know our story! Coming from Samoa!”

“We’re from Christchurch,” Balthazar feels the need to point out. “We were just in Christchurch.”

“Okay, but we were in Samoa before that, and Samoa is cool.”

“You’ll be cool, anyway.” 

“Well, you’re my brother, so you’ll be friends with whoever I’m friends with and so you’ll be cool by extension,” Rosa declares.

Balth throws a napkin at her. “I don’t want your pity-coolness,” he sniffs. 

Rosa laughs. “Seriously, though, whatever. Don’t worry about it. We’ll be fine. Just tell everyone you play guitar - everyone will love that.”

“I only just started,” Balthazar protests. “I’m not that good, yet!”

“Doesn’t matter! Bet anyone else who plays is worse than you.”

Balthazar doesn’t frequently think he’s better than people, but in this case, he does think he probably is. (He’s been to school-sponsored open mic nights - there’s definitely more enthusiasm than skill.) So he shrugs. 

“Yeah, I guess.” He pauses. “What about Nellie, though?” he asks, nodding over to where Nellie is doing some kind of jumpy, arm flapping dance in the still mostly empty living room.

“Yeah,” Rosa shrugs. “I don’t know. All little kids are weird, right? They’ll probably like the games she makes up.”

“I’m seven and a half!” Nellie yells. “I’m not little!”

“Yes, you are,” Rosa calls back. 

“Indoor voices, everyone. Have you brushed your teeth?” asks their dad, from the kitchen. 

“Oh my God, Dad. We’re not five!” Rosa says. “Hurry up, we’re going to be late. To our first day!”

(It’s almost definitely not cool or mysterious of him, but Balthazar’s big sister is also his best friend.)

-

“So, Stanley,” Ms. Phillips says. 

“Erm, it’s Balthazar?” Balthazar says. “Actually.” It wasn’t supposed to come out a question, but it did.

“Ah, yes, of course, your parents mentioned that. Right, Balthazar. That’s quite the name!”

“Yeah.” He’s been Balthazar for almost as long as he can really remember - Bella named him Stanley for her own dad and picked Balthazar out of the Bible. He was Stan until he was three but now even Bella doesn’t call him that, when she phones for his birthday and during the holidays. Balthazar is the name he picked and it belongs to him and him alone in a way that Stanley doesn’t. 

Ms. Phillips smiles. “Well, Balthazar. I think it’s going to be quite a good year. We’re so glad you could join us.”

Balth nods, even though he doesn’t particularly agree. He kind of feels nauseous, actually. Despite what Rosa says, being the new kid (or just even the kid coming back from two years away from Christchurch) doesn’t get any easier for Balthazar, not matter how many times he does it. 

-

“So, how’re you liking things so far?” asks a dark-haired boy, coming up beside Balthazar in the cafeteria. Balthazar can’t remember anyone’s names yet - it’s too overwhelming. The boy’s in Balthazar’s Maths class - talkative, with a (maybe) British accent. “You’re the new kid, yeah?”

“Um, yeah. And I guess okay?” Balthazar says. It’s only been half a day but it’s been tiring - it’s hard, figuring out where he is in relation to the rest of the class for the third time. “I mean, it’s been okay.”

The boy grins. “Wanna sit with us? It’s cool. I was new last year.”

“Yeah?” Balthazar asks. He wishes Rosie were around to tag onto, but she’s starting year nine at the secondary school and Mum always says it’s important they make friends on their own, too. 

The boy nods. “As you may have noticed by my distinguished accent, I’m not from here.”

“Um, right.”

“I’m British,” the boy explains. Balthazar wonders if the conversation has gone on too long to ask the boy’s name now. “Anyway, being new sort of sucks, yeah? But don’t worry, it’s totally not going to suck for you because you have me, Benedick Hobbes, friend-maker extraordinaire, on your side.”

“Benedict?”

“Bene- _dick_ ,” the boy corrects. “You can call me Ben, though. Most people do.”

Not that Balthazar is one to judge or whatever, but it’s kind of a weird name. “Okay. I’m Balthazar.”

Benedick grins. “I know that. _Balthazar_. It’s a cool name. Long though - do you have nicknames? Balth? Balthy?” 

“Chill, Ben,” says another boy, coming up to them. “Don’t freak him out. Hey, I’m Pe-”

“Pedro!” Ben cuts in.

“Pedro,” the boy who is apparently Pedro says, rolling his eyes. 

“Erm, I’m Balthazar,” Balth replies. And then he waves, because sometimes his muscles circumvent his conscious brain and just do things. “I’m new.”

Luckily, Pedro seems not to notice how uncomfortable Balthazar feels. He just asks, “Oh, yeah? Where’re you from?” and starts to lead them towards a table where a few guys are already sitting.

“Christchurch,” Balthazar says. “But I lived in Samoa, before that?”

“Seriously? Cool. What was that like?”

“Hot, like, way hotter than here.” 

They sit down at the table with several more guys who Balthazar may or may not have met at some point during the day. More of them are wearing football jerseys than the kind of people Balth has typically hung out with in the past but maybe there’s a first time for everything (and Balthazar does have a healthy appreciation for Iker Casillas’ skills).

“This is Balthazar,” Pedro announces. “He’s new. Be nice.”

“Balth - can we call you Balth?” Ben cuts in.

“Yeah, sure,” Balthazar says, amused despite himself. 

“Balth lived in Samoa!”

Balthazar spots Ms. Phillips in the distance as he sits down. She smiles and waves and Balth waves back. 

It’s possible that Auckland might not be so bad.

-

“So, yeah, that’s the story of how me and Ben became friends,” Balthazar says, nodding at Ben’s camera. They’re a week away from leaving for Wellington and it seems to have put Ben in a nostalgic mood. Beatrice left two weeks ago to stay with her parents for a while. Balthazar is trying to be supportive, even though Ben is insisting on re-living and recording a period in Balthazar’s life he’s vaguely embarrassed by (the way any normal person feels about the ages of eleven to about fourteen or fifteen). 

“We were so young and so cute,” Ben reminisces. “And here we are, about to leave for university.” He turns his head to give the camera a dramatic profile shot and Balth has to grin a bit. 

The truth is, that was when Ben befriended Balthazar, but it’s not really when Balth became genuinely friends with Pedro, even though Pedro’s in the story. They weren’t the kind of friends who could hang out without other mutual friends and not have it be awkward, at least not at first. 

That happened, really happened, the year after, when they started at Messina High School.

-

“Hey, check out that girl on the football pitch. Talk about legs, huh?” Hector says, sitting down and lounging in such a way that he takes up the most space possible. 

Balthazar, as a rule, doesn’t hate most people - honestly, half the time he’s too absent minded to hold a grudge even when he wants to - but Hector comes dangerously close to the line with remarkable frequency. (He’s on the football team, a year twelve, and Balth knows it’s only good sense for Ben and Pedro to be friendly, but mostly Balthazar heads to sit with Rosa and their group of aggressively overachieving and/or rule-questioning girl friends when the football team sits together.)

Ben squints half-heartedly against the sunlight. “The entire girls’ hockey team is on the pitch and they all have legs. You’re right, that’s remarkable,” he says and then turns back to his lunch.

Pedro chuckles and shrugs at Hector, who looks irritated (Ben gets on his nerves, Balth is pretty sure, which normally Balth would be sort of sympathetic about, but Hector is awful, like a teen villain in an American high school movie). 

“Talking about the Maori girl with the braid,” Hector says, gesturing towards the left. Balthazar follows his hand to see - Rosa.

“That’s my sister,” Balthazar says, coldly. He’s been raised in family that’s majority women so even if he didn’t suspect (know) that he doesn’t like girls that way, he thinks he’d hate the way Hector talks about them. Like they’re just sexy mannequins and not people with actual thoughts and opinions and feelings. 

“Your sister, huh?” Hector says, raising his eyebrows. “Not much family resemblance,” he comments, sort of absently, like he’s not even aware of being a total asshole. “Your parents let her date? Because if so,” he grins and shrugs.

Ben snorts derisively and Pedro looks like he’s about to cut in, but Balth can fight his own battles, thank you. “I’m the one who’s adopted. Not that that’s your business. And if you want to date her, you’d have to ask her -” 

“But since you often smell totally dank, so my odds are on ‘no’,” Ben says. 

Hector turns to look at Pedro but Pedro shakes his head. “C’mon, Hector, no way. You’re being a dick, honestly. Just lay off, yeah?”

Hector huffs, gets up and says, “Calm down, kids. No need to get so worked up.” He wanders off towards his usual group of guys who have yet to learn hair gel doesn’t work for them. 

“Thanks,” Balth mutters.

Ben just shrugs and takes a ridiculously huge bite out of his sandwich.

Pedro shakes his head. “Nah, don’t thank us. Hector was being awful. Like, is it so hard for him to be even kind of a decent human being? Anyway, I’ve heard Leo wants him off the team - he’s been skipping class again. So hopefully he’ll stop hanging around.”

Pedro’s normally pretty polite to and about Hector, even when it looks like it’s taking effort to be civil. But now he looks like he has _conviction_ , like soldiers in a painting or something.

“Yeah, hopefully,” Balthazar agrees.

“Anyway, Rosa’s a hundred times cooler than him,” Pedro says. “And so are you, obviously.”

-

So maybe it’s not particularly surprising that not long after that, Balth ended up with possibly the longest-lasting crush in the history of teenager-dom on Pedro Donaldson. 

Not that he was totally aware of it, at the time. Not at first. 

Pedro was eminently likable and talented at football and smart and, honestly, kind of embarrassingly dorky at times, but in such a way that somehow only made him more popular. Liking him and wanting to be him and wanting very badly to be thought well of by him were hard to distinguish, at the beginning. 

Sometimes it’s hard to distinguish now, even though they’ve done the whole cycle from friends to dating to “um, boyfriends, I guess?” 

Honestly, it’s as much Balthazar’s fault as anyone’s that things are a bit weird and undefined between them right now. He’s self-aware about that. 

He’s newly eighteen and has been in love (and he believes it’s that - it’s been too long and too much about being Pedro’s friend to be just infatuation) since before he even realized, probably. 

And he just doesn’t know if he’s ready to be that person for the rest of his life.

He’s at the age where he understands, now, the itch under his father’s skin - not the professional need to visit and observe the fieldsite but the calling to move and keep moving. 

Balthazar knows that his friends have come to think of him of as the musical one, the quiet one, one with the crush on Pedro, details that have hardened into characteristics. And it’s all true but it’s all relative and -

And this is the thing: Balthazar is a performer, in his blood and in his bones. So he knows how easily he can shift from the supportive friend to the singer-song writer with the acoustic guitar and dimple on his cheek to the middle child/only son/foster kid with the mixed feelings about his birth mum to the orchestra’s concert-master and back. Staying somewhere for five consecutive years means Balthazar has friends and stability and a proper drumset in the garage, but it also means he’s got labels. 

And maybe he just wants there to be some kind of clear break between Balthazar-that-was and Balthazar-to-be. Something more obvious than a haircut, something to match the truth of the movement - Auckland to Wellington, child to something somewhat short of an adult.

He’s eighteen.

He’s meant to be confused. Isn’t that what all that coming of age literature is about? 

(It’s all true, but it’s not the only truth.

Here’s another version to consider:

Balthazar can be brave. He can be daring and overt and even kind of charming. He can know what or who he wants.

But he’s eighteen and he wants a lot of things, more than can be found in Auckland or Wellington. 

When that university diploma’s in his hand, Balthazar wants to go, spin the globe, see where it lands and get on a plane. He wants to listen to the New York Philharmonic play live, straddle the line of the equator in Quito, busk on a street corner in Dublin, admire the architecture of the Hagia Sophia in Istanbul. 

Pedro’s going to study Law. And he’s going to be great, he’s going to be amazing, but Balthazar has no idea how their two futures are supposed to intersect, because they’re both ambitious, really, always have been, there’s a reason they would sit next to each other in class, but ambitious in such different ways. And it’s probably thinking too far ahead to even be asking that question and -

And it’s scary.)

They were friends for years, before, and that matters. 

They’ll be fine. Probably.

-

“You’ll be fine,” Balthazar assures Hero. He doesn’t know her particularly well - she’s a year younger and he mostly knows her through their shared music teacher and fourth period Art Class, where they usually both sit with Ursula - but Hero’s been Alice’s student longer than Balthazar has. He’s sure Hero’s mistakes are just nerves and frustration - the recital’s coming up in less than two weeks and disappointing Alice is the worst feeling. 

Balth and Hero’s lesson slots are back to back this year, so Alice thought it would be nice for them to do a duet - ragtime piano for two - so here they are, in school after hours to practice in the band room.

“We’ll just try that section again, yeah?” he offers.

“Oh, God, you’re being so nice and all I’m doing is messing up,” Hero says. 

“It’s fine. Let’s take a break, do something else for a second.”

Hero brightens up. “Would you like a cookie?” she asks, reaching for her backpack. 

“Uh, yeah, definitely.”

“Great!” Hero says. She’s almost impossibly sweet. “They’re oatmeal raisin - I know not everyone likes those.” 

“No, that’s fine. Cookies in any form is good.”

“I know,” Hero enthuses. “That’s how I feel, too.”

They sit quietly for a while, munching on cookies. 

“These are really good,” Balthazar says. “Did you make them?”

Hero nods. “Yup. I love baking.”

“Well, you’re really good at it.”

“Thank you,” Hero beams. “I told Alice I would bring something sweet for the after concert snacks. Any suggestions?”

“Chocolate chip cookies’re always a classic, right?”

“Mmm, excellent point. Chocolate chip cookies it is.” Hero nods decisively and laughs. 

“Okay,” Balthazar says, brushing off his shirt. “Ready to try again?”

“Yes,” Hero agrees. “The cookies really cheered me up.”

This time it goes much smoother. 

“You ever watch _The Sting_?” Balthazar asks after their (mostly) successful run through. “Most of the soundtrack’s Joplin pieces.” He plunks out a section of “The Entertainer” as best as he can remember.

“No. What’s it about?” Hero asks, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. 

“It’s a con movie,” Balthazar says. “Like, the best con movie.”

“Then I should watch it,” Hero declares.

Balthazar nods. “Got young Robert Redford in it.”

“Oh, he was so handsome, wasn’t he?” Hero asks. “Mum and Mumma love _All the President’s Men_.”

“Definitely handsome,” Balthazar agrees more to the piano keys than to Hero, transitioning to the _Star Wars_ theme song. (He thinks of it as his musical comfort food piece.)

“We should watch it some time, the two of us and Ursula. _The Sting_ , I mean,” Hero says. “She’s always saying we should all hang out.”

“Yeah, that would be fun,” Balthazar says and he finds he actually means that, not just as a platitude. 

-

Leo, Hero’s older brother, comes up by Balthazar at the snacks table after the recital and says, “Hey, you were really good!”

“Thanks, thanks. Hero was great - that Tchaikovsky piece went really well,” Balth says, trying to make conversation at the same time he keeps an eye on Nellie, who’s definitely about to spill juice all over herself.

“And the duet, of course,” Leo says.

“Yeah, the duet as well,” Balth grins. “Hero was really nervous about that, but I don’t really know why. It turned out great.”

“Hey, so you’re friends with Pedro and Ben, aren’t you?” Leo asks.

“Hrm? Oh, yeah - Nellie, careful!” Balth calls out. But it’s too late - Nellie’s managed to dump her juice on the floor.

Leo grabs a bunch of napkins and drops on the spill on floor while Nellie’s still frozen in embarrassment. “There we go,” he says. “No harm done, huh?”

Nellie mumbles, “Thanks, thanks, sorry,” all bright red in face and rushes off to find their mum. 

“Sorry,” Balthazar says, cleaning up. “You’d never believe this, but she’s actually really coordinated in, like, not everyday situations.”

“Yeah, she do gymnastics or something? Hero used to do that when she was little.”

“Mmm, ballet. And tap. She’s actually pretty good.”

“What about you? Got a sport of choice?” Leo inquires. 

“Chess?” jokes Balthazar. He’s not sure why he said that. He’s terrible at chess, never remembers all the intricate rules - Ben always beats him, even when he’s backseat playing for Balthazar.

Leo laughs. “Yeah? You know, I’ve seen you playing football with Pedro and Ben before practice. You’re really pretty good. Why don’t you try out for the team?”

Balthazar shrugs. “Not really a team sport person, I guess.” 

“Lone wolf?” Leo asks, with an easy grin. 

Balthazar shrugs. “I’m in a band,” he offers. This is actually true, though they’re not that good yet because they’re terrible at scheduling practice. Balth really needs to be more take charge about it but he’s not a spreadsheet guy any more than he’s a team sport player. 

“That’s great,” Leo says. “Ah, looks like Mum’s ready to leave.”

-

“Hey, Rosie, you ready?” Balthazar asks, poking his head into Rosa’s room. It’s exponentially neater and emptier than it was yesterday night when he’d finally called it quits on packing and just gone to bed. 

Rosa takes a deep breath and nods. “I believe I am,” she says. 

“Okay with leaving again so soon?” he asks, entering the room properly. 

Rosa shrugs. “I knew I’d be leaving for school pretty soon after I got back from France. I just think Mum’s a bit upset.”

“Yeah, I mean, you’ve been away a while. Mum just wants to spend time with you.”

“I know that, S.B.,” Rosa says. “But it’s not like I’m going to be on the other side of the world this time.” 

Balthazar shrugs. He never particularly wanted a gap year - he likes to get a rhythm and go with it, build up the momentum to carry him into the next thing. 

“Bad luck for Mum that her husband and kids can’t stand still,” Rosa says. 

“I think I manage okay, thank you, Rosaline,” Mum says, pushing the door open. 

“Hi,” Rosa says sheepishly. “Love you?”

Mum smiles and shakes her head. “Checked your room, too, sweetheart?” she asks Balthazar.

“Yup,” Balth agrees.

“Breakable instruments all packaged away safely?”

“Yeah,” Balthazar says, rolling his eyes. “Dad took everything out of the trunk and the back seats and re-did it to his exact specifications.”

“He is a very good packer,” Rosa says. 

“So you’re both ready to go, then?” Mum asks. 

Balthazar sticks his hands in his pockets, rocks back on his heels for a moment and nods. Rosa takes a last look around her room and says, “Yeah, let’s do this.”

It’s nothing short of a miracle that all their combined stuff fits in the aging sedan Balthazar inherited from his dad for his eighteenth birthday (Rosa got airfare to France for her gap year, so their parents thought it evened out.) It’s going to be an uncomfortable drive.

“Try not to break down,” Dad says, staring at the car with his arms folded skeptically. He’d wanted them to fly down, the whole family - he doesn’t really hang on to things so he initially hadn’t been particularly sympathetic about their desire for more luggage space. 

“We’ll be fine, Dad,” Balthazar assures him.

“I’m sure they won’t do anything crazier than you ever did,” Mum says, patting him on the shoulder.

“Really not making me feel better,” Dad mutters. 

Nellie’s kind of amped up, shifting from foot to foot. “Are you going to get there before night?” she asks.

“We will if we get on the road soon,” Rosa assures her. 

“So let’s let them go, yeah, darlings?” Mum says. 

There are extended, bone-crushing hugs and last minute checks that they haven’t forgotten anything and then, then their house is growing smaller in the distance. 

“You really ready for this?” Rosa asks, as they merge onto the highway.

“It’s gonna be good,” Balthazar tells her. 

-

“In the best possible variation, what would the future look like?” Ursula asks, from behind her camera. She’s been working on some video project the past few days, trying out filming instead of photography for a change, though it kind of feels like a personality test or something.

“Like, personally? Or for the world?” Pedro asks.

“Either.” 

“I want world peace,” Pedro says, giving a winning smile and a Miss Congeniality-style hand wave. 

Balthazar snorts. “That’s really beautiful.”

“Thank you,” Pedro says. “I know. I’m just a very genuine person, what can I say? Anyway, what about you? What’s your perfect world look like?”

Balthazar nods, as if he’s actually weighing this in his mind. “Erm, yeah, what I really want is a world where, like, it’s socially acceptable to walk down the hallway like you’re in _West Side Story_ , actually.”

“With the snapping?” Pedro asks, raising his eyebrows and hitting a crouched, dramatic pose. 

“Yeah, yeah, exactly,” Balthazar agrees. (When they’re on the same wave-length, it’s like the sizzling anticipation before going on stage.)

“Okay, can you actually answer the question?” Ursula asks. 

“What? I was being serious,” Balthazar says, faux-earnestly. “Maybe I really want to live in a musical, Ursula. I want to die tragically because of a rivalry between two dancing, singing gangs.”

“Don’t be mean. Don’t crush his dreams,” Pedro says.

“That’s got - what’s it called? Assonance. That’s good,” Balthazar comments. “Should use that as song lyrics or something.”

“Yeah? You like?” Pedro asks. He turns back to Ursula’s camera. “Oh, there we go, that’s a dream future. Donaldson and Jones, writers of musicals.”

“Why’s my name second?” Balthazar asks.

“It’s alphabetical,” Pedro says. 

“Yeah, but I’m the one who actually writes music. Shouldn’t I be first?”

“Right, but I’d be writing the rest of it - the script part. So in the name of fairness, it’s got to be alphabetical,” Pedro argues. 

“Hmm,” Balthazar hums skeptically. 

“What? You don’t think I could do it?” Pedro asks, putting a hand to his heart. “That’s really hurtful, Balthazar.”

“Okay. I’m finished,” Ursula says, sounding both amused and resigned. 

-

“I can’t believe you’re cutting that part out,” Balthazar says, absently highlighting a sentence from their history reading (they’ve been doing the French Revolution for the past two weeks and he really doesn’t care anymore - he just wants Napoleon to finally show up). “That was comic gold.”

Ursula raises one eyebrow. Balthazar raises one back.

“I think the word you’re actually looking for is embarrassing,” Ursula informs him. “I’m protecting you both from public embarrassment.”

“Nah, but think how much more awesome the world would be if people could just break into song whenever they wanted,” Balthazar says. 

“You sort of already do that, though,” Ursula says. 

“But that’s just because I’m already awesome. I want everyone to be as awesome as me,” Balthazar tells her.

“People think you’re sweet but you’re secretly a megolomaniac,” Ursula laughs. 

Balthazar nods. “Yeah, okay - dream future, I’ll make everyone into a singer and you’ll take over the world.”

“It will be a peaceful, prosperous and musical empire,” Ursula agrees. 

-

The closer they get to Wellington, the more Balthazar’s anxiety surfaces. He’s tapping out random rhythms on the steering wheel. He’s been trying not to think about this, but he’s worried about about having to explain, all over again to people, about who he is, at university. He could skip it, he guesses, but it would be dishonest and it all matters to him.

It matters that his Mum and Dad are his Mum and Dad (and it matters that he took their last name and it matters that Bella’s eyes look back at him in the mirror everyday and it matters that he’s reassured by that fact). It matters that Rosa and Nellie are his sisters. It matters that the two of them and Mum are Maori and proud. It matters that Balth likes boys and it matters that no, he’s not going to be quiet about that, even if he is, by nature, quiet. (Being reserved never means not wanting to be heard, in Balthazar’s opinion.)

“D’you know what’s weird?” Balthazar asks.

“What?” Rosa sighs. They’ve been in the car for more than three and half straight hours - they should really stop and stretch and switch up who’s driving soon-ish. (They’re siblings and they’re best friends but there’s a reason Mum never ever let them sit next to each other if the car/boat/plane ride was going to be more than two hours.)

“No one knows who we are in Wellington,” Balthazar says. “I mean, not really. We could completely lie and no one would know better.”

Rosa raises unimpressed eyebrows at him. “Tons of people know us, S.B. Like, the entire anthropology department probably still gets those terrible photo essay emails of all of us Dad’s always doing.”

“Okay, yeah,” Balthazar admits with a wince. (Dad definitely sent one about Balthazar’s graduation, which was sweet and everything but also just so completely embarrassing.) “But I meant like other students.”

“We’re literally going to be living with two of our high school friends,” Rosa points out.

“Fine, just keep shooting me down.”

Rosa turns to look at him. She has her feet up on the dashboard and her chair leaning far enough back that it’s hard for Balth to really see her in his peripheral vision. 

“Having one of those identity moments?” she asks. 

“Dunno. I’ve been so ready to go. I guess it was past time I freaked out?” 

“You’ll be fine,” Rosa says confidently. “And even if you’re not, you’ve got me. So problem solved.”

(Rosa’s good at breezily overblown bravado but she’s even better at making Balthazar brave himself.)

-

It’s not really courage - it’s panic that makes him say it.

“I’m gay. Actually,” Balthazar blurts out.

“Oh. Right,” Meg says. Then she nods. “Okay, yeah, cool. So, like, we could find you a guy.”

Balthazar shakes his head. “Nope, no, good right here for right now.”

Meg raises her eyebrows and nods.

“Um, I haven’t even told my parents yet,” Balthazar offers by way of explanation. “I kind of - yeah.”

Meg looks down, frowns and nods again. “But Rosa knows, yeah?” she asks. 

“Uh, yeah, yes. Listen, you’re like, only the third or fourth person I’ve told -” and Meg’s his friend but she’s closer to Rosa than she is to him and they’re at a party that Balthazar only tagged along to because it was hosted by someone on the football team and Rosa was going and he was just trying to stop Meg from her long list of suggestions of people Balthazar could hook up with and maybe it’s already kind of an open secret among his close friends that Balth is gay but - .

“Seriously?” Meg asks, tilting her head and giving a soft hint of smile. “Well, don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone if that’s what you want.”

“Okay,” Balthazar agrees. “Yeah, if you could just keep it to yourself. For now.”

“Definitely,” Meg says. “Totally. Hey, look, I didn’t mean to be super pushy. I’m just happy today,” she says, glancing over at Robbie (who’s definitely not good enough for her) and smiling, “and I wanted to share the love.”

“It’s okay.”

“You know what? I have an idea,” Meg declares, clapping her hands together. “So, if you want - and it’s totally up to you, say no if you want - anyway, I’ll go with you to the next GSA meeting. So you don’t have to go in alone and feel awkward or anything.”

Balthazar plays with his shirt cuff, considering. “Tony goes to those meetings, right?”

“From our Bio class, yeah. The hot surfer one,” Meg agrees. 

“Okay, yeah,” Balthazar says, slowly. “I’d like that, us going.”

-

Ursula squeezes his hand as Balthazar pushes open the door. 

“Hey, everyone,” Meg says breezily.

“Oh, hey,” Tony says, with a grin. “Meg and Balthazar are in Bio with me.”

“And I’m Ursula,” Ursula chimes in, with a wave.

The GSA meeting’s fun, actually, and everyone’s really nice.

“You sing, right?” asks Celia. She’s a year younger and new this year, transferred in with her cousin Lin, even though Balth’s heard her dad’s a dean at some fancy private school. Lin’s dad is Messina’s principal, but they went to private school with Celia until starting year nine here.

“Do you write your own stuff?” Lin asks. Lin dresses the way Balthazar wants to (or would if he wasn’t kind of lazy at heart) - suspenders and a button down and a newsboy cap over short, spiky hair. 

“Yeah, yeah, I do,” Balthazar says. 

“You should play something for us some time!” Celia says, smiling gently. She looks up at the clock and says, “Oh, we really have to go.”

Balthazar nods. “Yeah, me, too, actually.” 

As he’s heading out, Tony says, “Hey, Balthazar. I’m really glad you came today.”

“So am I, actually,” Balthazar says. He smiles and nods and Tony grins back.

-

“So, YouTube commenter lilywiththegreeneyes says, “It’s good to see you back and vlogging. Congrats on graduating and starting uni! How’s living with Meg and Balthazar and his sister so far?”” Ben reads aloud. “Well, I thought I would gather up the flatmates to answer that one. Although not Meg. She’s not here - she said she would be back approximately forty-five minutes ago. But then ten minutes ago, she said that she was going to get dinner with someone and since we all have actual work to be doing, we just went ahead and filmed without her! She’ll just have to be in a different video.” He turns to Balthazar and Rosa. “Well, say hi.”

“Hey,” Balthazar says. “Yeah, you guys already know who I am. Um, living with Ben and Meg’s been good. Little bit loud sometimes, but uh, obviously I probably contribute to that. Already lived with this one for most of my life,” he says, elbowing Rosa, “so that’s about the same. And erm, school’s been exciting. My musical composition classes have been great. And yeah, that’s about it from me. Rosa?”

“Hello,” Rosa says, giving a short wave. “Um, I’m Rosa. I’m Balthazar’s sister.”

“You have to give them a bit more than that,” Ben complains.

“Erm, okay. It just feels like I’m in those circles going ‘round and introducing myself again. Been doing that a lot recently,” Rosa informs the camera. “Fun times being a first year university student. Right, okay, um, I’m Rosa, I’m nineteen and I’m a computer science student.”

“Tell them about France,” Balthazar prompts. 

“Right, yeah, I just got back from France, in - um, December.”

“Right before Christmas,” Balthazar nods. 

“Mmhm, yeah. I was there for my gap year, with my friend Kit,” Rosa says. “She’s a first year here as well, but she’s living in dorms. We were in Paris, doing a French immersion program. Had a lot of fun. Ate a lot of croissants. Went to the Louvre a lot. Saw Versailles. Did . . . some other less interesting stuff. And now I’m back here, which is exciting, too. And living with Ben is, as I’m sure you can all imagine, basically the worst.”

“Hey!” Ben says.

“Meg’s great, though,” Rosa grins. 

Ben huffs. “Super ungrateful, this one. I am a pleasure to live with.”

Balthazar laughs.

“Anyway, moving on, to answer your question, because I am the nicest,” Ben says, “living with Balth and Rosa and Meg has been really good so far. Well, it was, until Rosa just gravely insulted me. No, but, uh, in all seriousness, the three of them are really good friends of mine and I’m glad we’re living together. Even if Balthazar does like to practice guitar way too early in the morning.”

“Aww,” Rosa coos. 

“Actually, look, here’s a photo of Balth and me at graduation,” Ben says, leaning over to grab a framed picture half hidden behind a stack of school supplies. He holds it up to the camera and Balthazar cranes his neck to get a look.

“I can’t believe you have that framed,” Rosa says. 

“It’s like you’re my dad,” Balthazar agrees. “That’s a nice frame. I’m flattered.”

“Right?” Ben says. “Mum had a lot of them left in the attic from her arts and crafts phase so she went on a photo-framing spree.”

Balthazar laughs.

“Are you laughing at my mum?” Ben asks, all faux-haughty.

“Nah, nah, I love your mum,” Balthazar says. “Actually, you know, I was just thinking the other day about how me - and yeah, Rosa sometimes, too - we used to come over and your mum’d make us grilled cheese sandwiches and soup when it was cold. That’s a fond memory.” Balthazar nods. 

“Aww,” Ben says, “that’s so true. God, I really want grilled cheese now.” 

Rosa looks up. “You know what? I actually just bought cheese,” she says. 

“Let’s do it,” Balthazar says.

Ben looks at the camera, eyebrows raised. “Well. Grilled cheese calls, people. So,” he says, pointing finger guns at the camera. “To be continued.” 

-

“Isaac breaking up with Rani just because they’re not going to same university was a bit harsh, don’t you think?” Pedro comments. 

“I - I don’t know,” Balthazar mutters, looking vaguely to the left of Pedro’s knee. 

“Okay. You’re being a bit weird.”

“I don’t know, I mean, maybe it’s better? If Isaac wanted out, it’s probably better he did it now, right?”

"I don't know. Maybe."

Balthazar says, looking up, “it’s just - think about all the couples we knew who were together in high school who broke up when they were at university.”

“Are we still talking about Isaac and Rani?” Pedro asks. “Because I feel like this conversation is going places I didn’t anticipate.” 

“No, I mean, it’s better to be really sure, isn’t it? If you’re going to stay together.”

“Are you not sure? About us?” Pedro asks. 

“No, I am!” Balthazar protests, feeling a bit sick, reaching out for Pedro’s hand. Pedro takes Balth’s hand and tangles their fingers together. 

Balthazar leans forward, rests his forehead on Pedro’s shoulder. “But what if we don’t really know what we want yet?” he whispers. “That’d be awful.”

(They’re eighteen and Balthazar’s mum and dad didn’t meet until they were in their mid-twenties and Bella had him at nineteen and he’s never met his asshole bio dad and has never had any desire to do so even though New Zealand’s not such a big country and for all he knows they’ve passed each other on the street, unaware.) 

Pedro is quiet for a while. He finally settles on, “I don’t think that true. That we don't know what we want. But I don't know what you’re looking for me to say here.” 

“I’m not looking for you to say anything in particular,” Balthazar murmurs. “You don’t have to - I don’t know - you don’t have to try to anticipate me, Pedro.”

“Is it - do you think I’m just going to change my mind or something?” Pedro asks. 

“No! I’m not worried about - I mean it’s university. We’re supposed to figure out who we are and maybe who we’re really going to be isn’t who we think we’re going to be now.”

“We can change and still like each other,” Pedro says, frowning at his shoelaces. “We met when we were twelve. It’s not like we’re the same as then but that’s worked out okay, hasn’t it?”

“It’s just - the world’s bigger than Auckland and it’s like, we haven’t even done anything yet, not really. What if we’re just really different people a year from now?”

“Are you planning on transforming into an android or something?” Pedro asks, exasperation threaded through his voice.

But Balthazar can’t help but laugh. “An android? Yeah, I’m going to university and I’m going to swap out my heart for a computer. That’s the plan.”

Pedro shakes his head, smiling ruefully. “We were having a serious conversation and I totally derailed it with that, didn’t I?”

“Little bit,” Balthazar agrees. “It’s okay. I still like you.”

“Good. Cause I still like you,” Pedro says. 

Maybe it’s silly but hearing that still makes Balthazar automatically grin. “That’s good. Sorry for freaking out. I’m worried, I guess. I don’t know.”

Pedro leans over and presses a kiss by the edge of Balthazar’s dimple. 

“We’ll work it out,” Pedro says. 

“Okay,” Balthazar says. He tilts his head to the side and smiles. “Hey, Pedro?”

“Mmhmm?”

“My dad’s not going to be home with Nellie for at least another twenty minutes. Wanna make out?”

Pedro laughs. “Yes. Yeah.”

-

“So, how are things going?” Mum asks, taking the phone from Nellie, who just recounted the entire story of the school’s fire drill antics. 

“Yeah, good. Lot of auditions,” Balthazar says, picking at his sleeve.

“Would you like to be a bit more specific than that?” Mum asks. Balthazar can hear the sounds of his dad in the kitchen over the phone and suddenly he’s a bit homesick.

“I talked to you two days ago, Mum. There’s not a lot new to report,” Balthazar says. “Rosa’s still failing on her quest for the perfect soft-boiled egg.”

“Well, how are classes?”

“Yeah, okay. My comp professor’s still awesome. And crazy. She came in today wearing a waistcoat with one of those watches on a chain.” 

“She sounds great,” Mum says. 

“Yeah, yeah. Um. Mum, can I ask you something?”

“Of course,” Mum replies, warm and affectionate. 

“How’d you know Dad was the person you wanted to stay with for the rest of your life?”

“Oh, well. That’s a big question,” Mum says, sounding faintly surprised. “Are things with you and Pedro -”

“Mum, can we just -”

“Right, okay. Me and your dad,” Mum begins. “Well, I suppose it was just that, he was the person I wanted to talk to, when I was excited or angry or I had seen something funny. He was the person I was always saving up stories to share with. And sometimes that person’s your best friend or if you’re lucky you’ve got more than one of those people and sometimes one of those people is also the person you want to marry. Or who you want to be in romantic relationship with. But I think, you know, in any lasting relationship - of any kind, really - you have to want to talk to each other.”

“Right,” Balthazar murmurs. “Yeah, that makes sense.” 

“Sweetheart, may I say something now?”

“Yeah, okay.”

“I worry sometimes that you’re too concerned about not making the same choices Bella did when she was your age. You’re not the same person, Balthazar,” Mum says softly. “And you’re not your Dad or I either. What worked for us might not be what works for you. And what didn’t work out for Bella might be wonderful for you. Well, probably not the - you know what I mean.”

“Yeah. I know, Mum,” Balthazar says. 

“Okay,” Mum says. “But I do mean it - you shouldn’t be afraid. You’re a very courageous young man.”

“Thanks, Mum,” Balthazar murmurs. “Do you want to talk to Rosa now?”

“If she can be reached, absolutely,” Mum agrees.

“I’m gonna tell her to call you on her phone, okay? I just need to call someone.”

“Alright,” Mum says. 

“Okay, talk to you soon.”

“Talk to you soon. Bye, sweetheart.”

“Bye, Mum,” Balthazar says and hangs up. He pauses for just a moment, pulling himself together, and then goes to open his door.

“Rosie!” Balthazar calls down the hallway. “Go call Mum. She wants to talk to you.”

“Fine!” Rosa yells back from inside her room.

“Oh, my god, stop yelling - your rooms are not that far away from each other!” Ben’s voice emerges from his own room. “Some of us are studying!”

“Suck it up, Hobbes,” Rosa yells back.

Balthazar retreats back into his own room with a smile.

He scrolls through his contacts and presses Call.

“Hey, Balth,” Pedro answers in a hushed tone. “What’s up? Sorry, I’m in the library.”

“Uh, nothing really. I just wanted to tell you about what happened in my comp class today. I think you’ll think it was funny,” Balthazar says. “I can call back.”

“Nah, now’s fine. Hold on, let me go out into the hallway before someone murders me with their mind for being on the phone in here.”

“Wouldn’t want that,” Balthazar agrees.

“Okay, okay, I’m safe now. You may begin,” Pedro says. 

“Right, so, this kid comes in with giant-ass cup of coffee and -”

-

When she’s in year thirteen, Rosa starts working at a cool coffee shop down by the train station, to save up money for her gap year. Balthazar spends a lot of his afternoons that year hanging out at one of the tables in the back, doing his homework or scribbling lyrics. Sometimes Kit or Ursula or Ben come with him, or sometimes on weekend afternoons, he’ll drop by with Nellie and they’ll play board games. But sometimes he likes just sitting there by himself, looking up every so often to just people-watch, to imagine the lives of all the customers passing through. 

There’s some kid who keeps coming in during Rosa’s shift and being just - kind of weird, honestly. Staring at Rosa like she’s a solar eclipse, or something else fascinating and dangerous to look at directly. 

Rosa always politely rings up his order but afterwards pulls a face towards Balthazar and Balthazar can only shrug and make a face back. The guy’s not really creepy but he is kind of irritating. 

His friends, though, seem kind of awesome. One of them’s a loud, dramatic girl with bright pink hair who’s always telling crazy stories Balthazar can’t help but overhear and the other one’s a guy Balthazar thinks he recognizes as someone who comes to help out with the sound equipment at a monthly open mic night Balth plays at. He’s cute, too, dark curly hair falling into his eyes as he looks amused and long-suffering. He’s always trying to keep his friend from being too weird to Rosa, so he’s on Balthazar’s good side, even though they’ve never actually talked. 

One day, Balthazar is on his way to his usual table, not really paying close attention to what’s in front of him because he’s got his headphones on and the Keats poem from English class still swirling around in his head.

Some people rush by him and the last person jostles Balthazar hard enough to cause his latte to go crashing down onto the floor. 

“Shit,” Balthazar mutters.

“Oh, God, I’m really sorry,” says the cute guy with the hair. “Here, hold on, let me -” He grabs a bunch of napkin out of the dispenser and crouches down to mop up the coffee.

“Smooth move, Benjy,” laughs the pink-haired girl. The weird guy sighs.

“Did it spill on you?” asks Benjy, looking up. 

“Nah, it’s okay,” Balthazar shrugs, looking down at his shoes. They’ve been through worse.

“Um, God, let me buy you a new drink?” Benjy asks. 

“Dude,” the weird one mutters. “You’re the one who said we were gonna be late.”

“I am aware of that. I am trying to be polite. Since everyone in here already probably hates us anyway,” Benjy says, sounding oddly pointed.

His friends look kind of shifty at that. 

“How about I take this one and go, before Ty shows up?” the girl says, elbowing the weird one.

“Only sensible thing I’ve heard you say all day, Mercy,” Benjy agrees, getting up. “Seriously, though, can I get you a new coffee?”

“Nah, it’s fine,” Balthazar demurs, even though he is kind of annoyed about the whole thing. 

“No, c’mon. I - actually I insist. It’s the least I can do.”

“Well, I guess if you’re going to insist,” Balthazar says, smiling. He’s not actually going to refuse if the guy wants to buy him coffee. 

“Okay, we’re heading out then,” weird friend says as he moves towards the door.

“Oh, hey, before we leave,” Mercy says, pointing at Balthazar, “this wasn’t orchestrated, though I kind of wish it had been, because Benjy comes to see you at open mic nights and he thinks you’re the cutest. Bye!”

“Oh my God,” Benjy mutters, literally covering his face with his hands. 

It’s really endearing.

“It’s okay. I like to think I’m pretty cute, too,” Balthazar says. 

Benjy laughs. “Self-confidence, that’s good,” he says, still red in the face.

“Yeah, well, can’t really be a musician without it, right? I’m Balthazar Jones.” 

Benjy shakes Balthazar’s hand. “I’m Benjy Velasquez. And my friends are awful and I’m sorry.”

“Hey, you’re getting me coffee. Makes you okay in my book.”

Benjy looks down at his feet and smiles. “Um, yeah, well, shall we then?” he asks, gesturing towards the counter. 

Rosa looks intensely amused as they walk over. 

Benjy looks pensive for a split second and then looks up at Rosa and says, “I’m on a roll anyway, so - I’m sorry about my friend. He’s, um, the one -”

“I know who you’re talking about,” Rosa says.

“Yeah, Ren’s not really the best at handling, uh, crushes,” Benjy says, sheepish. “Or like, interest in another human being he doesn’t actually know.”

Rosa shrugs, “Whatever, it’s fine. Can I get something for you?”

“Um, yes, a -”

“Latte,” Balthazar fills in.

“Oh, getting strangers to buy you coffee now?” Rosa asks. 

“Rosa’s my sister,” Balthazar explains. 

Benjy blinks. “Great. That’s . . . great. We can literally never come here again.”

“That’s a bit of an overreaction,” Rosa says, grinning. “We’re a nice family, actually.”

“I’m sure. Honestly, we should really just quit coming here regardless. Owner hates us.”

“Mr. Caplan?” Rosa asks. “That seems out of character. You break something? Or many things?”

Benjy rolls his eyes. “No, Ren’s family and mine, we run the cafe and the deli across the street, yeah? For some reason no one can even remember any more, our parents all think Caplan’s is the worst. Like it’s a personal betrayal for us to drink coffee someone else has prepared. Whatever. It’s a long story.”

“Sounds dramatic,” Balthazar says.

“You have no idea,” Benjy says. “Anyway, I’m going to stop embarrassing myself. One latte for the gentleman, to replace the one I destroyed.”

“Sure,” Rosa says, grinning. “Just be a minute. Why don’t you both sit back down?” 

Benjy visibly hesitates. 

“Mr. Caplan’s gone for the day,” Rosa says. “I won’t tell or anything.”

“Yeah, c’mon,” Balthazar says. “I want to hear about this coffee feud.” 

That evening, when Balthazar and Rosa head home, Balthazar’s phone has one new contact.

-

“Cool, so should we exchange numbers?” Balthazar says. 

He’s finally found a film student willing to help out with the videos he wants to put up (Ben is fine and Bea, now that she’s crashing with them for the moment, is probably better, but Balthazar misses Ursula. Asking Pedro always ends up making the whole thing feel more intimate than Balthazar intends). Freddie’s somewhat acquainted with Kit and agreed to work with Balth so he could add the music videos to his demo reel. 

“Yeah, good idea,” Freddie agrees, handing Balthazar his phone. “Sounds like this is going to be an awesome project.”

“That’s the hope, yeah,” Balthazar agrees, typing in his number. Freddie is crazily tall; it makes Balthazar feel kind of ridiculous, looking up to talk to him.

“Hey, so, Balthazar’s kind of an unusual name. Do you happen to know a girl named Meg? Um, Winters, I think?”

“Yeah. We’re friends - flatmates, actually. We went to school together in Auckland with Kit,” Balthazar says. 

Freddie nods. “We met at a party,” he explains. There’s clearly more to the story, but Freddie isn’t sharing.

“Right. Cool,” Balthazar says, awkwardly handing Freddie back his phone. “I mean, she’s around, so uh, I’m sure you’ll see her when we film. She used to play timpani in the band when we were younger, so she does the percussion part for me sometimes.”

“Awesome,” Freddie says. 

“Yeah, so, I guess I’ll see you next Friday at five, then?”

“Good with me. I’ll email you about the mics when I figure that out,” Freddie says. 

“Alright. Great.” 

Balthazar stows away the conversation in his mind. Meg, it seems, still knows how to make a lasting impression.

-

“Hey, Meg, d’you know a guy in the film program named Freddie?” Balthazar asks. “He’s a second year, I think. Kit knows him.”

“Hm?” Meg asks, looking up from where she’s painting her nails bright red. (“Like the blood of my enemies,” she said with a grin.) “Um, maybe?”

“Well, he definitely knows you. Asked if I knew you. Said you met at party?”

“Ooooh!” Meg says. “Yeah, yeah, that tall guy who looks like young hipster John Cho?”

“Yeah, I guess?” Balthazar says. “I mean, I don’t think John Cho looks his age at all, though.”

“I know. Such great genes,” Meg comments. “But yeah, I know who you’re talking about.”

“Well, he seems kind of, y’know, taken with you.” 

Meg shrugs. “Yeah, well, you know I’m not looking for a relationship right now,” she says. 

Balthazar glances at the list of “FLAT RULES!!!” on their fridge which prominently reads, “Romantic relationships are to be KEPT OUT of the flat - seriously.”

“Yeah, I know,” he says. “Anyway, he’s going to be the one doing the filming for me. Thought I should let you know.”

-

One day, Benjy and his friends come in when Rosa’s on a break and Jumana Caplan’s at the register instead. 

Benjy smiles and waves and Mercy winks. Ren is too busy leaning over the counter, talking to Jumana.

“Looks like your admirer’s moved on,” Balthazar says, slumping down into a chair across from Rosa, who’s playing with her phone.

“Hrm?” she asks and looks up, to where Jumana and Ren are staring at each other. “Oh, good.” 

-

Benjy’s great.

He comes to Balthazar’s gigs whenever he can and is cool with their dates being eating pizza with Rosa, Kit and Ursula after a show, or watching old movies off a laptop. (They never really say they’re dating to other people but Balth thinks people kind of know, or at least the people who matter do.) Benjy’s sweet, level-headed and really, genuinely kind, with an endearingly lopsided smile.

Mum and Dad are charmed by him, Nellie thinks he’s the coolest, and Rosa likes hanging out with him, even though she still thinks Ren is a creeper. 

Ben is weirdly delighted by Benjy’s name in a way only Ben would be and Pedro says, “He’s cute,” with a grin. 

Which is absolutely true (even though Balthazar has the momentary reaction of wondering what Pedro even means by that). It’s just that Benjy’s also constantly caught up in the ridiculous kinds of trouble Ren and Mercy are always diving head first into and Balthazar feels a bit tacked on, when he hangs out with them and he’s going into year thirteen soon and Rosa’s leaving in a month and Benjy just got into the Australian National University. Balthazar can’t plan his time around someone who’s always being called away to pick up his endearing but delinquent friends and who’s going to be gone so soon. Not when Balth’s got other things on his plate, too, gearing up for next year’s music school auditions. 

When they break up, Benjy frowns but nods. “Yeah, no, I mean, I get it. It’s just like, they have to come first, for me, you know? When I’m leaving so soon.”

“Yeah,” Balthazar says. “I know. It’s just, I’ve only got so much time too, and Rosa’s going soon, too.”

Benjy smiles tightly and tilts his head sideways. “I still expect to show up in the liner notes of your first album, okay?”

“Hey, there’ll be a whole song. “Weird Coffee Facts As Told To Me By My First Ex-Boyfriend” or something,” Balthazar says and bites his lip. 

“Definitely a Sufjan-style title,” Benjy says, looking down. 

It’s relatively painless, as break-up’s go, or so he gathers, but Balthazar still dejectedly eats a lot of junk food for next couple weeks.

-

“Oh, man, are those chocolate chip cookies?” Balthazar hears as he opens the door to the flat. 

“Yeah, Hero sent them in a care package for Bea.”

It’s Pedro and Ben talking, sitting at their dining room table.

“Oh, hey,” Balthazar says, bumping up against Pedro’s shoulder.

“Hey,” Pedro says with a smile. “You’re back late.”

“Yeah. Chamber group practice,” Balthazar says. “So frustrating. Like, you’d think you couldn’t ever get tired of Mozart, but I’m starting to get there.”

“Just stop agreeing to do all these classical music groups,” Rosa says, from where she’s sprawled out on their second-hand floral print couch, with several books laid open. “It’s not what you want to do and you always end up complaining about it.”

“Yeah, but it’s good experience,” Balthazar says. “Like, you have to have the training first. Necessary suffering.”

“Well, that’s cheerful,” Ben says, still typing away on his laptop. “Are you planning on dying for your art, too?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m gonna get consumption and perish in an unheated loft in Paris.”

“That was very . . . specific,” Ben replies.

“I’m sure you’re all actually fine,” Pedro says. “Everyone’s their own worst critic and all.”

“Yeah, hopefully,” Balthazar says, reaching out to tuck in the tag of Pedro’s shirt. “I’m gonna go dump my stuff in my room.”

As he’s unloading his things he hears someone else come into the flat and then there’s Meg’s voice saying, “Hello, everyone! I have returned.” 

Balth comes back and is immediately folded into a hug from Meg. 

“Oh, thanks,” Balthazar says. “You’re happy.”

“I am. Today was a good day,” Meg replies, all blithe and light on her feet.

“What’s so special about him, huh? Don’t the rest of us get hugs?” Rosa asks from the couch. 

“Oh, no, hugs for everyone! Who wants them, anyway!” Meg says, sock-sliding over to couch and squeezing Rosa, even though she’s still holding her book. 

Beatrice wanders out, bleary-eyed and in her pajamas. “Oh, my god. Could you guys please shut up? Some of us have to work in the morning?”

“Aww, don’t be grumpy,” Meg coos. “Do you want a hug?”

“What - no - oh, okay, okay,” Beatrice says as Meg hugs her anyway. “Okay - you are extremely pleased.”

Meg pulls away and nods. “Just a good evening, you know?”

“A very good evening, judging from your whole - demeanor,” Ben comments.

“Also a liberal interpretation of ‘evening’,” Pedro adds. “It’s - oh, shit, it’s 1:15. When did it get so late?” He makes a defeated noise and puts his head in his hands.

“Calm down,” Balthazar says, rubbing Pedro’s back, “you can just crash here with me tonight.”

“Hey, hey, flat rules!” Meg calls out. 

Pedro squints tiredly at her. “Seriously, Meg? You’re really going to kick me out?”

“Yeah, also, Beatrice is literally living with us right now,” Balthazar says. “That doesn’t bother you.”

“That . . . is different because Bea needs a place to live and Pedro has one,” Meg says. 

Balthazar pauses, decides it’s past time Meg knew that everyone else already knows she’s definitely not-actually-that-secretly going out with Freddie. 

Evidently Rosie’s had the same thought because just as Balthazar’s about to say something, Rosie turns to Meg and says, “Okay, not that I’m a fan of all the sickening love fests going on in this flat either, but Meg, can you seriously tell us that you’re never intending to bring Freddie back here?”

“Um, what . . . do you mean by that?” Meg asks, lying very badly. 

“Oh, give up,” Beatrice grins. “Jacquie and Costa knew, like, right away and the rest of us have known for ages.”

“Oh, my god. Jacquie seriously can’t keep a secret!” Meg says, flopping down onto the couch.

“Neither can you,” Rosa says. “I literally spotted the two of you making out in Joe’s Coffee Shop the other day.”

Meg grins. “Yeah. That was fun.”

Beatrice laughs. “You really like him!”

“He’s passable,” Meg says, with a huge smile. “Okay. Because I am, uh, what’s the word I’m looking for? Oh, magnanimous! Right, because I’m super magnanimous and not for any other reason!” she says, putting up her hands as if to stop any possible interjections, “I am willing to revoke Flat Rule number one.”

-

“Oof,” Pedro says, collapsing into bed. “God, your bed is so much nicer than mine.”

“Because I’m in it?” Balthazar says, grinning.

“Yup, yeah, that’s exactly it,” Pedro says. “Nothing to do with the fact that it isn’t abnormally tiny and rickety.” 

Balthazar smiles and shakes his head. “Just get under the blankets.”

-

“Hey, Balthazar. I said, are you ready?”

He is three, coming home with the people who will become his parents and sister for the first time.

He is twelve and starting school in a new, bigger city. 

He is twenty-one, nearly done with his degree and excited and terrified and loved. 

He is twenty-four, in Melbourne, standing backstage before a show.

“Yeah. Absolutely. I’m ready.”


End file.
